


The Longest Night

by dageek87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, F/M, Gen, Got into a thing, How to tag things, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), I Don't Even Know, Multi, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Not sure I'm using that tag correctly, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Feels, just go with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:06:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dageek87/pseuds/dageek87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Winter Soldier pulled Steve Rogers out of the Potomac River, he did something he hadn't done for 70 years.  He ran.  He runs until he finds himself in a barn on a farm 20 miles outside of Stone Mountain, Georgia.  There he meet's an eldery matriarch of a band of misfit foster kids and grows close to them.  Meanwhile, Hydra is hunting him down, with Brock Rumlow leading the charge.  Will the former James Buchannan Barnes find peace in the red hills of Georgia or will he be dragged back to hell for the final time.</p>
<p>Inspired by the 1955 movie, The Night of the Hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fast as you can

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fic, especially in the fandom. This, for me, is an exercise in writing and not being a depressing, lazy quim. Hope you all enjoy! Comment, Kudos, Bookmark, what have you!
> 
> Also, Chapter 1 is named after the 1999 song "Fast As You Can" by Fiona Apple

For the first time in 70 long years, the Winter Soldier's first instinct was not to fight or kill. His first instinct was to run. 

He knew he had to run when he abandoned his mission to save Captain Rogers instead of kill him. His mission. He left him on the shores of the Potomac and ran like a thief in the night. Hydra would want him back. They would want him to finish the job that the helicarriers failed to do. They would put him under and erase his mind and he would be back on the job, fighting a war that wasn't his for masters who deigned themselves gods instead of ordinary men.

He could have stayed there. He could have waited for the Captain to awaken and then throw himself on his mercy. He could hope and pray to whatever God the Captain served that he would be make his deserved death quick. He could have begged him to be his new handler. Serve under him and maybe fight on his behalf. He saw something in Captain Rogers during their fight in the helicarrier. It was the look of a man who knew him. For a brief moment he could see beneath the hulking soldier and see someone more familiar to his damaged mind. Someone who truly needed his help. It might not have been so bad.

However the soldier chose to run.

He made it to the mall where dozens of people stood agape and watched the helicarriers, the Triskellion, and SHIELD slip into the murky river. While they stood there to busy watching the drama unfold, the Soldier stole a blue denim jacket and a wallet from a neglectful civilian and put them on. He had to get off of the street. There were too many prying eyes and cameras looking around. He had learned the hard way so long ago that Hydra had eyes everywhere. He had to go to ground.

When he got to a more secluded area, he flipped through the wallet. Mr. Darryl Jorgensen had 300 dollars in cash and a debit card. He had to move quickly. He grabbed a baseball cap from a local vendor and headed to the closest ATM machine. The Soldier checked to see that he was not being watched or his face wasn't being caught on the camera that was surely filming the ATM. He put in the card and collected 500 dollars. Thankfully Darryl wasn't that imaginative of a person. 4321 was the password.

His next stop was a thrift shop a few miles away from the ATM machine. The store had emptied out onto the street, when they heard the commotion from the Triskellion. There was only a disinterested store clerk manning the register and a stock boy getting high on reefer behind the store.  
The Soldier set to work getting what he needed. He grabbed a duffel bag, a few tee-shirts and two pair of pants. As he paid for his clothes at the check-out line, he kept his head bowed and avoided eye contact with the cashier.

"That'll be 38 dollars and 53 cents, please." The cashier said, as she loudly smacked the gum in her mouth. The Soldier balked at the price. Surely it could not have been that expensive. He wanted to argue, but there was no time. He handed her the card and she charged his purchase with no trouble. The Soldier quickly exited the store, with his head down.

Outside, the Soldier snapped Darryl Jorgensen's card in half and tossed it in the trash. He quickly found a bathroom to change out of his combat uniform and to store the guns on his person in the duffel bag. He then headed deep into the bowels of the city. The place he found himself in was a stark contrast to the gleaming Greco Roman buildings that dotted the center of the city. This place reeked of a poverty that he could only vaguely remember. This was a good place to lay low from his enemies for tonight. Then he would leave Washington D.C. He would leave all of this mess behind.

He found an obscure back alley to lay his head that night. He tried to will himself to rest but the events of the day ran through his head like a freight train. Captain Rogers said he knew him, said he was a friend. The Captain also said he had a name. James Buchannan Barnes. However, the Soldier could remember none of it. It wasn't until the Captain told him, through cracked and busted lips, that he was with him. 'Til the end of the line.

He could vaguely remember that line. Spoken by a stranger to another stranger. The words meant something to the two strangers. He couldn't understand it. The Captain was his enemy. He had been sent there to kill him with extreme prejudice. He was a symbol of an uppity, bloated, decadent West that never learned that order was more important than anything freedom had to offer. Everyone had their place and Captain America proudly stood out of his like a sore thumb. He was just a soldier, like him, after all. The only thing soldiers were to do was obey.

The Soldier had disobeyed once. Long ago, when he was still a man. He had actually disobeyed plenty of times under his masters' control. Each time his punishment would be more and more severe. Eventually, the Soldier stopped trying. He gave himself over piece by piece to the monster inside him. The Soldier became their weapon and for that he was lucky to get treated like an animal.

Just then an infuriating thought came over him: The Captain would have never given in to them. He would have died first.

Suddenly he is up off the ground and pacing back and forward. His rage bubbling inside him. The damn fool Captain would have let himself die! Hell, that was the crazy bastard's plan before he even hit the bridge of the helicarrier. What the hell was his problem? He was just a Soldier, a soldier didn't deserve to be treated like a human being. And yet, he was treated as more than a man. He was the people's savior. They deferred to him in everything. Hell, he was more of a handler, like Pierce, than an asset, like him. Yet it meant nothing to him. He was so prepared to throw it all away all because he didn't want to follow orders. He was so…

Strong. And courageous. And important. He was everything the Soldier was not.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the stinging tears in his eyes. It was only thirteen hours, forty three minutes since he gave up his mission to kill Steve Rogers and he was already breaking down. Why did he care about this man so much? Why did he even bother to save him? If he was willing to get himself killed, what did it matter to him? If he did die, it would certainly be much less of a hassle for him.

It's because I knew him, the Soldier thought as he slowly slid down the back alley wall, exhaustion finally taking over. He knew him deep down in the pit of his icy heart. However, the brief flashes of him at different ages, times, and sizes was not enough.

He had to know more about him. The Captain. The man on the bridge. He had to know who he was and what made him tick before he ran a step further away from him.

Only then would he finally learn about the man James Buchannan Barnes and the monster the Winter Soldier.


	2. Is It in My Head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier learns a few history lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys! I'm back! Please comment, kudos, and all of that jazz. It's such a boost to my non-existent ego! Okay, maybe I have a tiny ego. But seriously you guys are awesome. It's gonna be a minute before we get to the night in question. Just hold on and enjoy the ride!
> 
> This chapter is named after "Is It in My Head" by The Who

_The Soldier was awakened with a hard slap.  He was always awakened with a hard slap._

_His eyes shot open as he tried to launch himself from the cold metal gurney but he couldn't.  His whole body was strapped to the gurney.  He tried to break the restraints but the one around his neck kept choking him.  His eyes frantically darted around the room._

_Where was he?  Who were these people?  Who was he?_

_His mind raced a mile a minute.  He didn't know any of the answers to these questions that clouded his mind.  He strained against his restraints again.  He may have not known who these people were but he did know he had to get away from them.  They were dangerous people.  They were evil people._

_"Welcome back, Soldier."_

_He was in such a panic that he barely noticed the man had entered the cold dark room.  He immediately stopped struggling on the gurney.  He recognized the man's voice.  A chill ran down his spine as one word replaced all of his confusing thoughts._

_OBEY!_

_The man came closer as he tried to still the panic in his mind.  He gently place his hand on the Soldier's chest, right where his heart should be.  The Soldier looked at the smooth pedicured hand.  He flinched and tried to move away from the strange man._

_"Look at me."  The man said in a calm but authorative voice._

_The Soldier slowly drifted his eyes toward the man.  He was compelled to face him.  He calmed as he stared at the man's sky blue eyes.  They had a familiar look, a comforting look.   A look of a man he had followed before.   The confident smirk on the man's face told the Soldier that he would always be forced to follow him._

_"What's today's date?" He asked._

_The Soldier paused as he tried hard to remember what day it was.  He knew deep down that he had to get the answer to the man's question right.  His pause earned him another hard slap from the man.  The soldier could taste the blood in his mouth, he could feel the sting._

_"The date, Soldier."_

_He answered quickly:  "I don't know!"_

_The man smiled and ran his too soft hand through the Soldier's hair.  He relaxed a little.  He was doing good.  He was good._

_"What is your name, Soldier?"_

_"I don't…have one."_

_"What is my name?"_

_"Mister Pierce."_

_"Good."_

_Pierce withdrew his hand from the Soldier's hair.  He reached down and started to undo the straps holding the Soldier down.  As he released him, Pierce talked to him in an even tone._

_"You know what I can't stand?  I mean, I can't stand a lot of things people do, but this is something that irritates me in a way nothing else can.  People who don't see the big picture.  People who don't realize what Hydra is trying to do.  Humanity... can be, at times... selfish.   They would have the freedom to do whatever they want.  But they don't have the disciple or the vision to do what is best for the greater good.  There's a man.  A smart man, an ambitious one.  He old now, but he still could've been an excellent asset to our cause.  However he's convinced that the work we do is somehow not for the benefit of mankind.  We could try to make him comply but he would never survive the process.  It's good then that he has a son takes after his father so much.  I feel with a push in the right direction, the son could be a great feather in our cap."_

_The Soldier tried to listen but felt his mind drift.  Pierce had a penchant for long winded speeches.  He was a man who loved to talk.  That's why he was the boss.  He talked his way to power.  The Soldier had no need for words.  He only had his mission._

_Pierce finished releasing the Soldier.  He sat patiently while Pierce finished his speech and gave him is mission.  On December 15th, there would be a party in the man's honor.  The man was a heavy drinker and hopefully he would insist that he drive instead of his beloved but long suffering wife.  It was on a long, lonely highway that the Soldier would expertly shoot the tires out from under the man's car._

_The car would go careening of the road into the wooded area along the highway.  The wife would fly out of the windshield and die of blunt force trauma instantly.  The man would take longer but not too long considering the subdural hematoma the man was suffering from.  Not to mention the a large piece of plate glass stuck in his abdomen.  The Soldier would look on his good work and be horrified._

_The last words that the old man would ever say were "Bucky…"_

_On December 15th, 1991, the Winter Soldier would kill Howard Stark._

 

_________

 

The Soldier woke with a start.  It was well into the morning and the Soldier was already sweating.  He couldn't tell if it was from the heat or the nightmare and frankly he didn't care.  He was already behind on what he needed to accomplish that day.

He made his way to the Smithsonian.  He had already wasted a week shivering in a back alley while his body tried to clean itself of the drugs that Hydra pumped into him for 70 years.  In a bid to calm down his shaking, he walked.  That when he stumbled on to the poster for the Captain America Exhibit.  According to the advertisement, they had everything you needed to know about the first Avenger.

As the bus pulled up to the entrance of the museum, the Soldier's hands started to shake.  His heart thudded in his chest.  He got off of the bus hesitantly, as if he was going to the principal's office.  As he got to the door he took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and finally entered.

The woman at the ticket booth mentioned to him that the exhibit would take more than an hour.  He got through it in less than 45 minutes.

He was fine until he got to halfway through.  He learned that Captain America's name was Steven Grant Rogers.  He grew up in Brooklyn a skinny sickly kid.  It wasn't until he met renowned scientist, Dr. Abraham Erskine that he grew into the man he fought on the helicarrier.  He bravely lead the Howling Commandos in the fight against the Red Skull.

Then he saw it.  The stranger with his face.  The plaque said he was First Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes.  He was a childhood friend of Steve Rogers and his the second in command to Captain America.  He had a mother, a father, and three sisters.  He was a loyal soldier and a hero to his country.  He sadly died too young at the age of 26. 

Of all the information the museum had, they missed one crucial detail:  First Sergeant James Barnes was also the Winter Soldier.  And there was nothing heroic about him.

Looking at the exhibit gave him insight.  He was unsure if running from Captain Rogers (Steve, his name is Steve)at first, but now he was resolute.  Steve would never see him as a man.  He wouldn't even see him as an asset.  He would only see his dead friend and the demon he had become.  He felt something come over him that he hadn't felt in a long time.  It was a need to protect Steve.  This time, from him.

He grabbed his duffel bag and ran out of the Smithsonian.  He had a mission now.  He had to get away from Steve first and foremost.  He knew now that Steve was a reasonable man.  He was a good man.  He could never let Steve be dragged down into the hell he had experienced.  He could never let Steve know how low his good friend, his brother, had been brought.

He also had another mission.  He had to slay the beast known as his captors.  He had to get rid of Hydra.  He was told that Hydra was his master.  That resistance was futile.  He was told that if one head of Hydra was cut, two more would take its place.  But he knew how to destroy them.  He would definitely cut off their heads.  He would cut and cut again, until he could recognize something decent.

The Soldier was determined to not only cut the heads, he would also burn the stumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I am NOT on Tumblr. Wish I had the focus and the time commitment for all of that. Whatever, Tumblr belongs to da youth. I would just be your old drunk aunt on Tumblr. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter though!


	3. A Dangerous Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bird has a terrifying nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! So this is where we meet two of our OFCs. Sorry it took so long to post the chapter, just started a job so hopefully it won't keep me away from the fic for too long. The title of this chapter is named after the song "A Dangerous Man" by the rock band Foxy Shazam. Go check it out!

There were only two things in Robin "Bird" Jefferies life that were constant:  signs and wonders.   Almost every day there was a sign of something coming.  Everyday consisted of another wonderful discovery of her unusual body.  This is what her life was like as a miracle.  She had learned to live with her powers and try to see the beauty in them, as  Ms. Matra told her to do.  However tonight was different.  Tonight her power truly terrified her.  

She had had a vision.  Her visions were nothing new.  Just small distorted visions of the future.  Sometimes they would be visions of a new child come to be a part of their extraordinary  family.  Sometimes she would visualize herself in a veternarian office, putting her skills to good use on a poor sick animal or on herself.  This however, was not a normal vision.

As she walked downstairs to the kitchen she thought on the nightmare she had just endured.  There were men.  Horrifying killers drenched in the blood of innocents.  They were in the house.  Under the bed.  At the kitchen table. They were everywhere.  One of the men was a disfigured thing, a slick cunning animal.  He didn't say anything.  He just whistled an old gospel song.  He  was unnerving . He slithered his way up the stairs up to her foster sister, Ruby's room.  That's when she heard Ruby's piercing screams.  She had to go to her sister.  She had to save her.

She got only a few steps before she ran head first into what felt like a brick wall.  She fell to the floor.  When she looked up there was another man towering above her.  In the shadows of the room,  she could only see his eyes.  They were cold and unfeeling.  They were as blue as a frozen lake and as haunting as a ghost. She tried to scurry away from him but it was no use.  He grabbed her by her slim waist pulled her close to his chest.

Bird tried to scream.  Tried to free herself from the cold murderer's grasp but he held tightly to her.  Bird began to sob as her heart beat faster and Ruby's screams grew louder.  She had grown weak and powerless in the man's strong possesive grip. The man pulled her closer and rested her head against the crook of his neck.  He ran a cold hand through her short, feathery hair and shushed her.

"Don't cry, _ptichka_. You belong to me now. I always protect what is mine." 

That's when she awoken with a start.  Covered in sweat.  She wondered what it could all mean as she put a the tea kettle on.  Who were these men?  What did they want from them?  She knew they would come here.  She was never wrong about a vision.  That was why this one scared her so much.  She had to stop it from happening but she had no idea how.

The man with the cold eyes mentioned something to her.  He said she was his.  That really sent a jolt down her spine.  She remembers being so frightened of him but also so safe in his arms.  When he held her, he turned her mind into a jumbled mess of feelings that threatened to pull her under.  For the first time in her life, she was truly afraid.

"Bird…" She heard someone call out to her.

"Birdie, dear." There it was again.

"Bird! The kettle!"

Bird was so lost in thought she forgot about the kettle.  It whistled loudly and plaintively until she took it off of the stove top.  Matra, her foster mother, stood in the door way to the kitchen shaking her head. 

"Bird, your wings."  Matra said, directing her eyes toward the black wings brushing against the ceiling and cabinets.

They did that sometimes.  If she was deep in thought or overcome by a vision, her  wings would spread and flap on their own.  It was almost instinctual.  The wings needed to move occasionally in order to avoid cramping. It was as if her body would be telling her mind to focus.  Especially when she found herself lost to deep in the confines of her mind.

Bird mumbled an apology and sat down at the kitchen table.  Matra took over, finishing the tea.

"Girl, I was worried for a second that you were gonna burn the house down." Matra said evenly with just the touch of prodding. "Wanna tell me where you were just now?"

"I had a vision."  Bird said somberly.

The lines in Matra's face became more pronounced as she smiled.  She enjoyed hearing about Bird's visions.  Bird usually had good visions, visions that made her hopefully.  She hadn't had a bad vision from Bird in years.

"Well are you gonna tell me or do I have to start pulling teeth to get it out of you?"  Matra asked as she placed her hand in Bird's.

"It was about a man.  He's coming."

"Yeah well what kind of man is he?  Is he tall? Is he handsome?  Is he gonna come here and steal one of you away?"

Bird frowned.  Sadly, Ms. Matra wasn't far from the truth.  He was coming and he could mean death for everyone.  She shivered.  Matra's smile slowly drifted from her face.  She knew her daughter well enough to know that this new vision was trouble.

"Who's coming, Bird."  Matra asked urgently.

Bird swallowed hard and forced the words out of her mouth.

"A dangerous man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ptichka- little bird in Russian (got it from google translate so correct me if I'm wrong)  
> Please leave comments, kudos, and stuff! You guys are awesome!


	4. A Rainy Night in Georgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier stops running. He starts to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the wait. Thanks for reading. That's it, that's all I got. This chapter is named after "A Rainy Night in Georgia" a song by Brook Benton.

The Soldier got as far a South Carolina when the busted up Cutlass he stole finally broke down.  He had to get further away.  Hydra was on his trail.  They would want to bring him back in.  Put him under.   Turn him loose on their enemies, now more than ever.  He couldn't let that happen.  Not when is freedom was so long awaited and hard won.

Then there was the matter of Captain Rogers.  He would want him, too.  For what, the Soldier didn't know.  Maybe he wanted to use the asset for his own gains like Hydra.  Maybe he wanted to punish the Soldier for all of the bloody deeds he had done.  Maybe he just wanted his friend, Bucky, back.  He didn't know.  And not knowing was scared him.

So he walked.  He walked further and further south.  Pass the state sign into Georgia, he walked until he could walk no further.  As he walked he tried to unlock the mysteries of his broken mind.  Who had he truly been before he was ensnared in Hydra's grasp.  A memory came to mind.

_He was in an alley in a time long past.  He could feel his fists baring down on something. Someone.  His body burned with white hot rage._

_Distantly, he could hear someone call his name.  It was a raspy broken cry for him to stop.  He ignored it and again brought a fist down on the man again.  In his anger, he noticed tears roll out of the man's  blackened eyes and down his bruised face._

_Something inside of him took a sweetly sick pleasure from the man's tears.  He should cry.  He hurt Steve.  He was unprepared to give Steve the same mercy that he so badly wanted for himself.  He got lost in his rage as he stopped punching the man and began to kick him.  His curses drowning out the man's pleas for mercy._

_He felt a small calloused hand on his shoulder pulling him away from the man. He brushed it away.  He was sick and tired of the man hurting Steve.  He was going to teach him a lesson.  He would never put his hands on Steve again._

_"Bucky!"  the voice got louder and more frantic. "Stop!"_

_He ignored it.  Nothing was going to stop him from giving this guy what for.  Not this time._

_"Stop! Bucky! You're gonna kill him!"  This time the voice was insistent, scared._

_He looked up and saw Steve standing there.  His bloodied and bruised face staring at him in horror.  He looked at the man beneath him.  He was beaten to a bloody pulp, sobbing uncontrollably.  He looked at his hands.  They were cracked and stained with the man's blood._

\-------------------

The Soldier felt the memory elude him after that.  He tried in vain to continue reliving that moment in time.  He was morbidly fascinated.  He had almost killed a man. Long before the soldier came into being, he had  been a perpetrator of violence.  Was he always a monster?  Had Steve always pulled him up from the depths of his darkened mind?

It would make sense.  He always needed a handler.  Someone who could bring him to heel when his violent rages took over and he would butcher anything in his path.  Lukin did it through lying and warping the truth (" _What do you mean, you want to go home, Yasha?  This is your home.  Always has been and always will be."_ )  Pierce did it through cold brutality (" _The next time you attack one of my staff.  You'll get the chair and worse.  I'll spend all day thinking of ways to punish you."_ ) Steve's method of control was kindness.  Kindness was the worst.  It cut the Soldier to the core.  Left him staggering, confused.

The Soldier was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the rain.  It plopped to the ground in thick droplets.  He had to find a place to stay for the night.  He could withstand the rain for days on end.  He had been trained to do so long ago.  However the guns in his duffel could be damaged by the water.  He saw a  dirt road ahead of him.  He walked towards the dirt road almost instinctually.  As if he was being lead by some unseen force.  He decided to let it lead him for now.

The path led to a farm.  The Soldier felt a chill run down his spine.  The farm was familiar to him.  It was warm and inviting.  It buzzed with life.  He wanted to go into the house to see why the place was so familiar to him.  But there were people inside.  He couldn't face people.  Not yet.

He instead decided to bunk in the stables.  It seemed like an appropriate place for him to be.  When he entered the barn, the smell of horses permeated the air. The smell was terrible but would do for the night.  Then he would continue to run.  He would run until he died if it meant  that Hydra would never find him.  Or Steve for that matter.

 He made himself a nest on the hayloft above the stables, close to the window overlooking the farm.  He took his guns out of the duffel bag and began to check them.  He would have to get equipment to clean them soon.  Hopefully he could steal it from the people who lived here instead of going to a gun store.  Hydra would definitely know to look for him in any public places.

As the night went on, the Soldier's mind began to wonder about Steve Rogers.  What would he be doing now.  Was he better from the fight on the helicarrier.  Did he have someone to look after him, make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

The Soldier was sure he did.  He remembers the briefing  about Steve Rogers.  He was a respectable man.  A man that people thought highly of.  Even Pierce was showed reverence towards him.  He had even hoped to bring the Captain into Hydra's fold.  The thought made him shiver.

The thought of Steve being forced to do Hydra's bidding scared him.  They would have to break him first.  That's what they always did.  Exert dominance over an asset, let them know that Hydra is in control of everything the asset does.  Then they would wipe him.  Rip away everything that was decent about Steve until he was nothing but a husk of a man.  Then would come the blood.  They would make him kill whoever they wanted.  Men, women, and children; the guilty and the innocent.  So long as they went against Hydra, they would die brutally.  Steve would never survive it.

It was good then that he get away from Steve.  If Hydra were to capture them both…  They wouldn't. The Soldier will not let them.   He would keep Steve out of it.  He would spend the rest of his life trying to keep Steve away from that life.

At some point the Soldier drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.  It was a welcome relief from the nightmares that plagued him ever since he was freed from Hydra.  His peaceful sleep would be short lived when he was awakened to the sounds of a woman shouting.

"Hey! Hey! Mister you got five seconds to get out of my stables or I am calling the police!"


	5. My Special Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier meets Matra and her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Sorry it took so long. Work stuff, not to mention this chapter is super long and ok maybe I had a lazy moment. Whatevs! Hope you enjoy. If you enjoy enough please leave kudos and comments and all those things us fic writers love! This chapter is named after the 1957 song "You're My Special Angel" by Bobby Helms. Thanks you guys!

The Soldier shot up from where he was standing, gun in hand.   He had no idea where he was.  He looked out of the window, careful not to draw any attention to himself.  He had to assess the situation.  Make sure that the person yelling at him to come out wasn't Hydra.

It was a woman.  A tiny old woman with dark skin and short gray hair.  She stood strong with a shotgun in tow.  The Soldier heart quickened when the woman aimed the gun at the door of the stables.  Whoever she was, she meant business.

"Who are you?" the Soldier barked.  "Who sent you?"

"Who sent me?" the old woman replied, incredulously, "I could ask you the same question.  Hell, come on to my property.  Sleep in my stable and you got the nerve to be interrogating me.  Now I done told you to come out of there.  Don't make me use this thing."

"Where am I?"

"You're right outside of Stone Mountain.  About 20 miles.  You are also on my property.  And if the McCanns sent you here, you can tell them they can have my horses over my dead body."

"Who are the McCanns?"

The old woman relaxed a little, relieved the Soldier wasn't there to steal.  She slung the gun over her shoulder.  Then she became confused.

"Well, if Jim Bob didn't send you, what are you doing in there?" She asked, seemingly concerned.

"I…" the Soldier hesitated.  He wasn't sure if he could say.  Not sure he could trust her.  "I needed a place to sleep for the night."

"Well hell, boy.  If you needed a place to stay you could've just come up to the house and asked."

There is silence for a while.  Both unsure of what to say.

"Are you hungry?"  the woman asked.  Her voice firm but compassionate.

"Excuse me?" the Soldier asked, confused.

"I say, are you hungry? I'm about to cook some breakfast if you want some."

The Soldier's stomach grumbled in response to her words.  He groaned in frustration.  His body was betraying him.  He wanted to run from this woman and her kindness.  He didn't deserve kindness.  He did not deserve a release from the pain and deprivation he felt.  But weakness got the best of him and before he knew it, he was stuffing his guns back into his duffel bag and slowly exiting the stables.

He stood before the woman, a shell of his former self.  His hair was greasy and unkempt.  His frame was thinner and dirty from his long journey from Washington DC.  A look of shock came over the woman that gave the Soldier a pause.  Her look of shock transformed into one of appraisal that made the Soldier even more uneasy.  It was a look he knew too well the many times he stood naked and raw under the all knowing eyes of his masters.  He was thinking of running when the old woman reached her old hand out, imploring for him to take it.

"Well," she said with a smile, "You gonna come with me to the house or not?"

The Soldier grabbed her hand with his metal hand, taking the most care not to crush the delicate hand in his.  If the woman noticed something different about his hand, she made no indication.  The old woman held fast to his metal hand as she used her shotgun as a walking stick.  He could see the house up ahead and could vaguely feel the warmth of it as they got closer and closer.

"For a minute there," the old woman said again, "I thought you were a horse rustler, coming to take old Tennessee Stud.  That damn Jim Bob McCann's been wanting him for years.  But I told him, Tennessee don't let no-bod-dee ride him.  And I'll be damned if I'm gonna give him to that lout to beat him half to death.  Tennessee is just for to look at.  To be admired.  So, what's your name, boy?"

The Soldier stopped dead in his tracks.  A name?  He drew a blank.  Names were something that people had.  People who didn't kill, rape, and maim.  Names were for people who were fit to walk in the daylight.  It was times like this, when he yearned for his prison.  The ice.  The chair.  He tried to push down the bile in his throat as the ghosts of his past threatened to overtake him again.  Force him back to hell before he could even taste the goodness of this world.

"Well…"

"James." The Soldier said quickly, instinctually. "My name is James Barnes."

"Well, James.  It's good to meet you.  My name is Matra Ann Flannigan.  You can call me Mrs. Flannigan or Ms Matra.  That's what all my children call me.  Except for my oldest boy… don't reckon he call me much of anything nowadays."

The Soldier (James)noticed the traces of sadness Matra's voice.  The longing was palpable.  However, not a second passed before she was her talkative self.  Her words buzzed in his head like a hive of honey bees, lulling him into complacency.

As they walked into the farm house, the house was unusually quiet.  It was like the calm before the storm.  Matra guided James into the kitchen and sat him down at the breakfast table.  That's when he noticed her.  She had a lithe delicate body.  Her caramel skin glowed flawlessly in the light of dawn.  Her hair was cropped short and looked like the feathers of a newly born chick.  However, the most striking thing about her was her wings.  They were pulled back, modestly.  They were black with flecks of midnight blue and the shone like the silver of his arm.

"This is my daughter, Robin."  Matra said with a touch of pride, "But we all just call her Bird or Birdie.  Bird.  This is James. "

Bird, turned to face him.  She didn't notice much about him.  He could have been any bum off the streets, once again preying on the mercy of Ms. Matra.  But it was his eyes that gave her pause.  They were the same icy, haunted blue from her visions.  She was so enamored, so fearful she dropped the cup of coffee she was drinking.   In one quick motion, James grabbed the cup and carefully handed it back to her all without spilling a drop.

"Hi."  James said, shyly.

She responded with a strained hello.

"Birdie. "  Matra said "Be nice.  Mr. Barnes here is going to have some breakfast with us.  Don't mind Bird, she thinks everybody is against her.  It's a symptom of her talents.  She sees all so she thinks she knows all."

They were both taken aback.  James thought he was alone, a monster amongst men.  He spent almost every day away from Hydra wondering if he was the only freak that Hydra created.  Now he was staring at a girl who had wings.  Actual wings on her back.  He wondered what horror story she had from Hydra.

A chill ran down Bird's back.  This had to be the most afraid she had been in her life.  It had to be a man from her visions.  She had always expected him.  She was never wrong about a vision.  But it was so soon.  She had to know why he was here.  What was he planning to do to her, her family?

The tension in the room was palpable.  Matra was more than aware of it.  She looked at this strange man staring at her daughter, her daughter staring back.  It was both familiar and strange, as though they were both predator and prey.  Matra cleared her throat and they both sharply turned to face her.  The tension eased.

"Well if you two are done making googly eyes at each other," Matra said, "One of you can pass me a skillet."

Bird grabbed a skillet while James sat down at the kitchen table.  Matra started to work making the biggest meal James had ever remembered seeing.  His eyes widened as dish after dish of food accumulated in front of him. 

"So where are you from, Mr. Barnes?" Matra asked as she placed a few strips of bacon in a frying pan.

"Umm…" James hesitated.  Another thing he couldn't remember. "Different places, I guess."

Bird looks at him suspiciously, as if she could see through his hastily cracking façade.  He stared down at his at his plate.

"Different places, huh?" Bird asked skeptically. "What brings you here then?"

"Looking for something."

"Like what?"

"Something about my past…"

"Anything in particular?'

Matra reached over and pinched Bird on the arm.  Bird winced and looked up at her mother annoyed. 

"Stop being nosy, Robin." Matra warned.

"I can't ask a question?" Bird asked incredulously.

"Not if you're gonna ask them like that, you can't."

They sat in silence for a while, James staring at Bird, Bird glaring at James.  The silence was interrupted by the thumping of feet down the stairs.  James tensed as the kitchen exploded in a cacophony of voices.  There were children, four of them.  All different sizes and colors.

There was a tall lanky redheaded boy no older than 14 who plopped down into a seat right next to Bucky.  He loaded up his plate with food and began shoveling it in his mouth.  With a mouth full of food he flippantly asked:

"Who's the weirdo?"

"His name is James Barnes." Matra said as she lifted a tiny dark-skinned child into a seat next to Bird. "And don't be flip, CJ.  You know better than that."

"Sorry."

"Mr. Barnes is joining us for breakfast."  Matra turned to another child, a dark-skinned boy about 10 years old.  "Darius did you help her sister with her medications?"

"Yes m'aam." He replied.  He forwent the food on the table and made himself some cereal.

"Ms. Matra?" an olive skinned boy about the same age a Darius asked, "Did you sign our permission slips for the field trip?"

"Yes, I did.  They're on the counter over there.  Don't forget them, now."

"Yes, m'aam."

James listened as the family conversed.  They talked about trivial things.  Things that, he thought, where common for families to talk about.  Field trips, school crushes, chores.  They made up a familiar pastiche.  The scene in front of him brought back a memory.

**_It is him, staring at a painting. His is strapped down to a chair and his eyes are forced open by a machine.  A man sits beside him and periodically squirts eye drops into his eyes. He is tired but he knows he cannot rest.  A rest will earn him a beating.  The painting is of a family gathered for a dinner.  The family is all smiles as a woman (wife?) places a turkey at the center of the table.  The painting reminds him of people.  A blond boy with courage he no longer possesses.  Three little girls who looked at him as if he could lasso the moon.  He dares not speak their names.  To mention them will earn him a trip to the chair and of all the punishments they could dish out, the chair is the worse._ **

**_"This is the typical American family.  They are an illusion.  The American family is not held together by love.  It is held together by lies.  The father is a cold distant man who prefers that his maids and television raise his family.  The mother is not a doting caretaker, she is a weak willed leech who would gladly suffer the greatest indignities to maintain her life of luxuries, like a true whore.  The children are confused decadent heathens who only find solace in temporary gratification.  The family is a weakness.  A hindrance to the Soldier.  The Soldier does not have a family.  The Soldier does not want a family.  The Soldier's only want is to obey."_ **

"Hey.  Are you hungry?  You haven't put anything on your plate yet."

The words brought him out of his memories.  He looked up to find the whole table staring at him.  He timidly reached over the table and grabbed a bowl containing scrambled eggs.  The sleeve of his jacket rolled up slightly just enough for them to catch a glint of metal underneath.

"Dude, " CJ asked, "What's up with your arm?"

"Umm…" James said.  He was unsure of what to say about his metal arm.  He suddenly felt out of place as everyone tried to get a glimpse of it.  He was regretting coming here.  It wasn't safe.

"Well isn't it obvious." someone behind him said. "It's obviously a prosthetic arm.  Although that has to be the most high tech arm I've ever seen."

James tensed and turned around to see a young woman standing in the doorway of the kitchen.  She had red hair like CJ and was about as tall and lanky.  James deduced that she must be his real sister.  She strolled into the kitchen like she owned the place and grabbed a peach.

"Ruby." Matra said warily. "You woke up late.  Again."

"Don't worry, Matra dear." She replied coolly, "I won't be late for school again.  Who's the freak?"

"Ruby."

"It's James." Bird said.  She had barely taken an eye off him since he first came into the kitchen.  "Ms. Matra's letting him eat breakfast."

Ruby made a indifferent snort in his direction and continued talking while James took a bite of his food.  He wanted to be careful.  Take his time and make sure it wasn't poisoned.  But once he took a bite he could not control himself and proceeded to devour the food.  He lost track of the conversation,  of who was there.  He could only eat and think of the years without real food.  Just nutritional supplements and protein bars and other concoctions that tasted like vomited.  By the time he finished, they were all staring at him again. 

"Damn, man.  You act like you never had nothing to eat before in your life." Darius said in awe.

"Darius." Matra warned.

"I'm just saying."

"Well don't.  Now y'all go get ready for school.  Ruby go with them and make sure they don't fool around up there."

The children left their seats and ran out of the kitchen leaving James alone with Bird and Matra.

"I hope you don't mind the kids." Matra said, "They can sometimes be a little to free with their mouths sometimes.  But they're good kids.  Just curious is all."

"It's fine." James said.

"You're more than welcome to have some more food if you want."

Before James could decline, Matra had already piled his plate full of more sausages, eggs, and some white stuff named grits.  Bird still glared at him.  James ate slowly this time, all the while staring back a Bird.  He wondered about her.  Why did she stare at him like that?  Like she knew he was an evil man.  Like he was a demon come to do horrible things to her.  She stared and glared at him as if she knew the terrible things he had done.

"So where are you headed after this, Mr. Barnes?" Matra asked.

"I don't know."  James said.

"Well when do you plan on leaving?"

"Soon.  I hope." Bird chimed in testily.  Matra just rolled her eyes in response.

"I'm not sure."  He said. 

"Well.  I'll tell you what.  I've got an extra room up in the attic-"

"Mama!" Bird warned "No."

"Bird. "

Bird was quiet as she spoke.  She was glaring even harder at James, lips tight.

"Like I said: I've got an extra room up in the attic.  You look like you could use some rest.  If you don't mind doing some work around the farm, it's yours if you want it."

James thought about it.  He needed to leave.  He needed to not tangle himself in these people's life.  He also needed to start his hunt for Hydra.   But he was tired.  He was not in optimal condition. He needed to gather his strength for his fight.  He breathed a heavy sigh.

"I guess I could stay for a few days.  If you don't mind."

"Take as long as you need!" Matra said with a smile. "Bird take him upstairs and show him around."

Bird sucked in her teeth and got up.  She grabbed James's metal arm and dragged him upstairs.  She showed him their rooms and the bathrooms.  She then led him to a door and opened it.  Bird led him up the stairs to a humble but spacious room in the attic.

"So I guess this is where you will be sleeping from now on." she said tersely. "Ms. Matra doesn't usually take in strays.  But I guess you make the exception.  Try not to kill us in our sleep."

James grabbed her arm as she turned to go.  He pulled her towards him and tightened his grip.  He could feel her heart thumping as he made the faintest growl that sent shivers up her spine.  Her wings expanded as she tried to free herself from his grip but he was too strong.  She looked into his blue eyes and saw a fierceness that made her shake.

"Don't say that." He said, threateningly.  "I'm not an animal so don't talk to me like I am one."

"Oh I know who you are." she responded. Her words like venom.  "I've seen you before in my visions.  You may have Matra fooled, but I know you.  You're dangerous and I will not let you destroy my family."

"I'm not here to destroy anything, _ptichka_.  I only want to rest."

She looked into his eyes again and they were tired.  They were the eyes of an old man.  A man who had seen too much, known too much.  There were dark circles and tears that refused to shed.  James loosened his grip on Bird and she flew back a feet away from him. He slouched a little as he mumbled to himself.  "Is that too much to ask?"

The expression on Bird's face softened a little.  He looked less like the stuff of her nightmares and more like a broken man.  She wondered what happened to him to make him so monstrous and so helpless at the same time.  James saw the bruise forming on her arm, turning her beautiful honey brown skin a deep ugly purple.  It seemed as though he couldn’t stop hurting people.

"I'm sorry." he said.

"Just.  Stay away from us."  She replied, trying and failing to sound unafraid.

With that she turned and ran out of the room, leaving behind a solitary midnight blue feather.  James gingerly picked it up and ran it across his flesh and blood hand.  He smelled it and ran it across his lips.  The girl was mean.  She was intrusive.  She was the real dangerous one.  He swore to stay away from this girl and high tail it out of here as soon as he got some of his strength back.  But during the night, when the house was dead quiet.  When he was left alone with his memories of the life he had.  He would try to think of a less painful thought.  That thought was her.  This ethereal woman with the stunning wings.  This angel.  She was a special angel.  An angel of his weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ptichka- little bird in Russian
> 
> Ok so that is the whole family. Damn, those are a lot of OC. The next chapter we get Steeb (yay) and Brock (boo). Stay tuned!


	6. What a Fellowship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumlow and Steve try to process the fall of SHIELD and form a plan of attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! Yes this took waaaaaaaayyyyyy too long. The writer's block struggle is real! If you are reading this, thanks for sticking it out with me. Not my best chapter, has some crude speech, but I hope you enjoy. The chapter, BTW, is a verse from the gospel song "Leaning On the Everlasting Arms." Since my fic is loosely based on Night of the Hunter, that song will be popping up periodically. If you want to check out the version I'm drawing inspiration from, check below. Enjoy!  
> https://youtu.be/-N9LnkKQfuc

A lot of people thought, from Brock Rumlow's brusque accent and attitude, that he is some uptown New York liberal with a bleeding heart.  That he was all about recycling and looking out for one's fellow man.  However, if Brock Rumlow's father, Pastor Rumlow, ever heard you calling his boy a Yankee he would snatch you blind.  The Rumlows have always been of good western stock.  Just as his father had been and his father before him.

The accent was Pierce's idea.  Most things usually were.  Pierce felt a more Northeastern accent gave Rumlow an air of intimidation and Rumlow had to agree.  Few people dared cross him when he barked an order.  Pierce was smart like that.  He always had an answer, always knew where everything and everyone was supposed to go.

Maybe he was partial to Pierce because Pierce was his mentor.  He had taken him away from his drunken zealot father and had gave Brock a new God to worship: Hydra.  Hydra was going to change the world.  Bring order to the human race and give the country back to people who deserved to rule. They were so close to a new day.  Then Captain America and his PC brigade had  shit on everything and now, Hydra was broken.

And to think, there was a time when  Captain America was his hero.  He stood toe to toe with the Red Skull and won.  He saved the world and inadvertently, saved Hydra.  Brock remembered the buzz going around when they pulled him from the ice.  Some of the higher ups in Hydra wanted him dead, but Pierce said no.  He was certain the Captain could be made to see the light, that they could use the tools in their arsenal to bring him around.  When Pierce and Fury put together the STRIKE team, Brock leapt at the chance to join.

Then he met the prick.

Brock tried to bring him into the fold.  Invited him to hang out with the rest of the guys on the team.  But he was usually busy with Romanoff.  At first, he thought they were having sex.  However, when he tried to broach the topic with Rogers, he nearly took Brock's head off.  Ok, so maybe he could have phrased the question better than 'You hittin' that?' But a man would have to be crazy not to get a piece of that sweet Commie ass.

As he worked more Captain Rogers, the more it became apparent to him that he was weak.  He had all of that power, all of that strength and he would hold it back.  He would always use that damn shield instead of the gun.  He would never kill a hostile if he could be taken alive.  And he would never sacrifice the lives of the hostages or the team to get the mission done.  He was hardly the man to make the hard decisions.  His compromises in battle made him weak.

The Asset however, would do anything to complete the mission.  The Asset was ruthless and he was deadly efficient.  It kind of made Rumlow jealous.  He wished that he could have that much power running through his veins.  But Rumlow knew that the Asset's power came at a price.  In order for him to be the Winter Soldier, who the Asset was had to die slow and constant deaths.

He wasn't stupid.  Brock knew the first time he saw the soldier, blank faced and helpless, that he was James Buchannan Barnes.  Captain America's trusted sidekick.  He knew he used to be a hero. Now he was nothing more than a tool in Hydra's arsenal.  Rumlow knew about the wipes, the freezing and the beatings it constantly took to keep the Asset in line.  He had partaken in some of it.

No, Brock Rumlow would never trade places with the fearsome Winter Soldier. Brock had learned from Pierce that it was so much better to control the Soldier.  Make him fight for you.  Pierce was very smart to steal him from the Commies.  The Asset racked up a body count on Hydra's behalf that was unfathomable.  That's why Rumlow was moved from the hospital in D.C. and sent to a Hydra facility deep in Virginia.  They needed the Asset back.  Needed him to take care of their enemies until they got Project Insight back on line.  If they ever got it back on line.

Now that Pierce was dead, Brock was the only one who could bring the Soldier to heel.  Hydra knew this.  In fact, it was the only reason Brock was still alive. He had seen Pierce do it and had learned from him.  He would bring him back and get rid of Captain America.  So long as the Asset would be under their control, that stubborn bastard would never stop looking for him.  He would do it all and be back in the higher ups good graces in no time.

But first, he would have to heal.

 

\----------------------

 

It was official.  Steve had managed a third night with no sleep.  He hadn't slept since he last talked to Fury at the cemetery.  He wanted to sleep.  But every time sleep came, so would the nightmares.  Nightmares of the helicarrier.  Nightmares of the highway overpass.  Nightmares of the fall.  Every nightmare began and ended the same way, with screams.  By now he was not sure if the screams were his or the screams of the phantoms that plagued his dreams.

Try as he might, Steve could not get the last few weeks out of his head.  He felt a strong sense of betrayal.  He felt betrayed by SHIELD, Fury, Natasha, Bucky, everyone.  He came so far, lost so much, just to be lied to and manipulated by everyone he met.  He felt like the toy soldiers he used to play with when he was a child.  In stasis, ready to be positioned and used for someone else's gains.  And boy, did they ever.

Now that it was over, Steve couldn't help but think of all the missions he had done for SHIELD and how many people he had hurt or even killed for their gain.  It angered him how he didn't even question what he did.  There could have been numerous innocents that he took out for something so corrupt as SHIELD.  Which was only a sham for the real masterminds, Hydra.

His anger would soon turn revulsion.  He had fought Bucky.  The closest to a brother that Steve would ever get, and now he was turned against Steve for the benefit of his enemies.  He thought about their fight under the over pass with particular disgust.  He didn't know the Winter Soldier was Bucky.  He only knew he was dangerous.  He was the enemy and the Winter Soldier was not going to hold back.  So Steve didn't hold back either.  He knew he might have to kill him, and while Steve got no enjoyment out of it, he made sure to hit Bucky with the edge of his shield as hard as he could.

Never mind the fact that Bucky shot him four times and stabbed him.  Bucky wasn't in control.  He was under Hydra's sick influence.  What was Steve's excuse?  What reason did he have to be so violent.  He had always thought of himself as a good man.  Now, he wasn't so sure he wasn't a monster himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by Sam entering the living room.  He was dressed in his running gear.  Steve didn't even notice he had left the apartment.  He was carrying a bag that he placed on the kitchen counter.

"Hey, man!" Sam said with a smile, "Got some blueberry pancakes from the diner down the street.  Figured you were hungry."

"Yeah."  Steve said with a sigh, "I could eat."

"So… did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah…no."

Sam breathed an exasperated sigh.  Steve could tell he was disappointed.  Steve seemed to disappoint a lot of people in the end.

"You wanna talk about it?" Sam asked.

"Talk about what?"  Steve said feigning ignorance about what Sam was referring to.

"What happened.  What you are thinking.  Why you aren't sleeping…Him…Or… we could just talk about the weather."

"The night before my procedure.  You know, the procedure that turned me into…this.  Erskine had came to talk to me about the procedure.  He made me promise to remain a good man, not just a great soldier. I don't think I'm that man anymore."

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't know.  I think, at some point, I got so lost in being Captain America that I forgot to remember what being Steve Rogers means."

Sam looked at him with a confused look.  Steve wanted to take the words back.  It seemed foolish, but that's how he felt.  He did in fact forget his life as Steve Rogers.  However, Sam Wilson was nothing but perceptive.  He knew that  Steve hadn't forgot who he was, he forgot what one James Buchannan Barnes meant to him.

"This is about Bucky." Sam said.  Steve huffed, knowing where he was going. "Dude, he fell hundreds of feet into a ditch.  You could not know that he would survive that fall."

"But I didn't look for him!" Steve replied with false conviction.  "You guys have a saying nowadays.  POW MIA? No man left behind?  We- I left him behind.  Left him in the literal cold... How can I reconcile that?"

Sam sighed heavily.  He had been through this before with Steve.  Yet Steve still did not get there was no easy way in war.

"Steve, you couldn't have known-"

"You didn't leave Riley behind." Steve said.  Sam could hear the twinge of jealousy in his voice.

"That's different and you know that." Sam said curtly.  It was true that they had found Riley, but everything in his soul wished that they never had.  After seeing how he was found, Sam would've wished he could wait a hundred, a thousand years to find Riley alive and not how they actually found him.

"Steve," Sam said, trying to get them to both focus on something else, "What’s important is that Bucky is still alive.  What's important now is that we look for him.  He could be anywhere and I know we would all sleep better if we knew he was safe.  We need to focus on that.  Not on what happened in the past."

Steve sighed.  He knew Sam was more than right.  He had a few ideas where Bucky could be, from looking at the file.  He had ran away more than a few times.  One time he ran to Brooklyn, another time he ran all the way from St. Petersburg to Newfoundland.  A silence fell on the room as Steve finally decided where to look for his friend first.

"We should look around town first." Steve said, sounding like Captain America for the first time in a long time.  "If we don't find him here then we should go to Brooklyn after."

Sam smiled. "Okay then.  That sounds like a plan.  Now come and eat these pancakes before I have to throw them out."

As they ate, they planned.  They planned for Bucky to be in good shape.  They planned for him to be in bad shape.  They planned for him to still be the murderous villain they met on the Helicarrier.  They planned for everything they could think of. 

As the day went on, Steve started to feel better about their impossible situation.  Yes, he was dragging his new friend into a seemingly hopeless battle to find and rehabilitate his old friend.  However, Steve reminded himself that anything was possible.  After all, they found Bucky still alive after everyone thought he was dead.  If that wasn't a miracle, Steve didn't know what one was.  He had broken a covenant in 1944.  Now he would heal the bonds of fellowship that had eluded him for 70 years.  He would get his friend, his brother, back by any means necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter, we are back on the farm. Please leave comments, kudos, and all that other good stuff us girls like below! Thanks again for hanging in their with me! See you next chapter.


	7. Love is Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James's last night on the farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! So this chapter is kinda long? I guess? There's some violence and intimate wierdness. I can't qualify it. This chapter is named after a line in the song "Behind Blue Eyes" by the Who. Awesome song. Check that out. Enjoy. Please leave comments, kudos, and stuff. I kinda started writing this fic to gauge if my writing skills were complete crap so feedback is welcome...so long as it's constructive.

_"Get up, ptichka!" A deep voice ordered from the depths of a darkened room.  Bird tried to lift herself from the earthened ground, but the minute she lifted her head she dizzied and slumped back down.  Her whole body ached.  She could feel her ribs begin to bruise.  Whoever did this to her, she knew, surely had the capability to kill her and there would be nothing she could do about it._

_She curled herself into the fetal position and braced herself for another attack.  She felt the toe of a boot nudge her body roughly._

_"It's hard to believe with all of your bluster, all of your tough talk, you would give in so easily."  The voice mocked.  "Get up!"_

_The boot nudged her again even more harshly.  This riled Bird's anger past endurance.  Even though it pained her to move an inch she forced herself up.  She got into a fighting stance, jaw set, her wings expanded, poised to strike.  She looked at her opponent.  His blue eyes were cold and unyielding.  Bird felt like a deer in headlights.  She wanted to turn away, to run from this madness but she remained as resolute as her opponent looked._

_He rushed toward her in a flash, his metal arm reared back, ready to strike.  Before he could make contact, her right wing blocked the fist.  Before  he could make his next move, she took the heel of her bare left foot and drove it into his boot.  Pain radiated up her leg but she pressed on.  Bird then took her elbow and shoved it into the opponent's ribs.  In a quick motion, she flapped her wings and gave her opponent a push.  They both flew backwards more than ten feet and he landed hard on the ground._

_This was not enough to defeat her opponent.  It didn't even slow him down.  As Bird landed on her feet, her opponent sprang into a crouching position.  He then kicked her feet out from under her.  She landed on the ground with a thud.  She tried to roll away from her opponent but he grabbed her wing and dragged her to him._

_She yelled and grunted in frustration and fear.  She tried wildly to free herself from his grasp but it was no use.  He had Bird right where he wanted her.  He pinned her to the ground by her wings.  On a normal person she could break free easily.  Her wings were too strong to be restrained normally.  However, the man had the strength of ten men and was now on top of her ready to deal the last blow.  She looked at him with defiance and readied herself for the blow.  She was shocked, however, to feel soft lips on hers suddenly, without a moment to breathe._

Bird awoken with a start.  It took her a moment to realize she was in her room, even longer for her heart to stop thudding in her chest.  She had had a vision.  Another one of their strange visitor.  The third one this week.

They were always violent, her visions of him.  Always shrouded in blackness and mystery.  She would always awaken with a start, covered in sweat, her heart pounding.  However, this vision frightened her the most.  This was the one she understood the least.  He kissed her.  Kissed her with passion, with vigor, with love. 

She shook at the thought of it.  The man was some kind of monster.  He had ingratiated himself with the rest of the family, but they didn't know like she knew.  They didn't know the death and destruction he brought in her visions.  To them he was a quiet, but harmless drifter.  She knew better, but she needed her proof.

She grabbed her slippers and headed for the attic.  He had to be sleeping and now was as good a time as any to find something out on the mystery man, who called himself James.

As she got closer to the door of the attic, she could hear him moaning and occasionally shouting through the door.  Something in her wanted to run back to her room and hide under the covers until he finally left.  But she steeled herself.  She was 23 years old and this was her house.  If he was really a danger to her family, she had a right to know.  She turned the knob to the attic door.

It wouldn't budge.  The bastard had the nerve to block the door.  She groaned in frustration.  Now she really wanted to get in. She wondered what he had to hide that he would bar the door. Bird took a deep breath.  She would have to use the window. 

She rushed downstairs and outside.  The cool air took her by surprise and she shivered vigorously,  but Bird remained resolute.  She flapped her wings and flew to the lone attic window on the roof.  She took a deep breath and opened it.  As quietly as she could, Bird slid through the window into the room.

The room was seemingly unchanged since James moved in.  It was just as neat as when he first entered it.  If he wasn't sleeping on the bed, Bird would think no one was up here at all.  She tip toed to the dresser and quietly opened the drawers.  With the exception of a few clothes, there was nothing of note in the dresser.  She is about to call it quits when she is startled by his groan.

"Steve…" James groaned a pained expression on his dreaming face.  "…It's cold…"

Bird stared at him in rapt curiosity as James moaned in mumbled in English and another language she couldn't place.  Bird suddenly felt guilty for snooping.  He probably didn't trust anyone because he had been through a lot, she thought as she made her way back toward the window.  Before she could step foot out the way she came, she noticed his duffel bag near the foot of the bed. 

"Don't…  please…"

Bird made her way to the foot of the bed.  She opened the duffel bag and her eyes went wide at what it contained.  There in the bag were an assortment of knives and guns.  Handguns, rifles, and blades of different sizes littered the bag.  Carefully, she dug through the bag and pulled out a wad of cash.  Her mind starts to race as she ponders who James really is and where he possibly got all of this stuff. 

Suddenly she is lifted off the ground and slammed into the wall.  All of the air is forced out of her lungs and her wings flap haphazardly trying to break free.  Bird bit back tears as she felt the sharp sting of a blade pressed against her throat.

"What are you doing?" James asked sharply, not loosening his grip at all.

"I.." Bird tried to respond but the words evaded her.

"Why are you spying on me?"

"You're hurting me."

As if he had snapped out of a nightmare, he looked at her fearful eyes and noticed the knife in his hand.  He let her go and sat on the bed.  Bird gasped for air while he sat there confused with his head in his hands.

"What is wrong with you?!" Bird whispered harshly.

"I'm sorry." James said with regret.

"Why do you have all that stuff?  Who are you really?"

"You should go."

"No!  You should go!  I was right about you.  You are a monster!"

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That's funny, because you just did!  What the hell!  You need to leave now!"

James sighed, heavily, wearily.  With reluctance he got up and set about packing his few belongings.  Bird was a bundle of tightly wrought nerves.  She paced about the room, keeping her distance from him.  Her visions were valid, they always were.  This man was dangerous.  He had to go before any damage could befall them.

"I knew it.  I knew you were no good.  We never should've let you stay.  Not after I saw what I saw.  Who's Steve, anyway?  Someone else you hurt?"

"Yes." James said, absently, with a touch of sorrow.  Bird was taken aback by his answer.  She wasn't sure if it was because he hurt someone else or because he admitted to it.

"Oh my God.  What did you do to him?"

"Why do you care, huh?  I said I was leaving and I'm leaving.  You can stop giving me grief. The monster is leaving."

Now she was angry.  Her brows furrowed as she got more indignant.  After what he just did, he had the nerve to be hurt.  She could feel her face get warmer and her voice get louder as she yelled at him.

"How dare you!  You don't get to be angry after you almost killed me!  Where the hell do you get off, after you come into our house and eat our food to be angry at anything!"

"You're right, I-"

Suddenly they are interrupted by a knock at the attic door.  Bird jumps as the sound while James lets out a frustrated groan.  They both knew by the soft but insistent knocking that it could only be Matra.

"James."  She said through the door.  "You alright in there?"

"Yeah just give me a sec."  He said as sweetly as he could.  He turned to Bird with urgency. "Get under the bed."

"What? Why?"  Bird asked.

"Because I'm pretty sure that your mother wouldn't want to find me in here, alone, with her daughter at two in the morning."

"Fine… But after, you're going to tell me what you did to Steve and then you're gonna leave."

After Bird managed to squeeze herself and her wings under the bed.  James went to the door, removed the chair blocking it, and opened the door.  There Matra stood, tall even though she was almost half his height.  She surveyed him with her all knowing eyes, the same way Bird tended to do.  It made him feel uncomfortable after all this time in her house.  It was as if she knew more about him than he knew about himself.  The whole family had that trait.  They looked at him as if they knew what he truly was.  It scared him to no end.  Perhaps it was good he was leaving.

"James," She asked, "are you alright?  I could hear you from my room.  You're liable to wake the dead."

"Yeah."  He answered. "I had a nightmare.  It's fine, now."

"Alright.  But you do know this has been your third nightmare in a week, right?  If you wanna talk to someone about it, just let me know."

"I wouldn't want to trouble you.  I'm actually leaving first thing in the morning."

James managed to say this loud enough so Bird could hear without giving away the fact she was in his room.  Bird breathed a quiet sigh of relief.  Her nightmare was almost over.  James would finally leave and the threatening visions would stop.  She felt a sense of accomplishment.  She had never stopped a vision from happening before.  However, she had never had visions so dire and ominous before.

"Oh,"  Matra replied, a little dejectedly, "Well, I guess you couldn't have stayed forever.  I'm a little sad, though.  You've been such a help around here.  Gonna miss having you.  Do you know where you're headed?"

"I have to take care of some loose ends in California."

James felt a little bad about lying to Matra, especially after how kind she had been to him.  He did plan on tying some loose ends, but the loose ends were Hydra and he was starting his mission in Poland, not Palm Springs.  However, the least anyone knew about that, the safer they all would be.

"Well, if you ever find yourself in the area, you're more than welcome to stay."

"I'll be sure to look you up. Thank you Mrs. Flannigan.  For everything." 

"You are very welcome, Mr. Barnes.  I'll see you in the morning, I guess.  You have a good night."

James wished Matra good night on the way out, quickly shutting the door behind her.  He leaned his head against the door and forced himself to breathe.  Bird managed to wiggle her way from underneath the bed.  James turned to face her, his face pulled into a frown that was saddening but not unpleasant to look at.

"Are you going to leave now?"  He asked wearily.

"Yes." Bird said.  Then she suddenly remembered what they were arguing about before. "I mean, no.  Tell me what you did to that Steve guy?"

"I hurt him.  It was bad.  Bad in a way that can't be fixed."

"Who was he?"

"A friend.  An enemy.  I don't know."

"Is that your answer for everything?  I don't know. One of these days, people are going to stop excepting that answer. I have a feeling that there's a lot you're not telling us.  Who are you, James Barnes, really?  Why would you have enemies?  Why do you keep secrets?  Especially from the only people who want to help you."

"It doesn't matter, Robin.  I'm leaving in the morning, remember?   You think I'm a monster and I have done nothing but prove you right this whole time.  I'm an evil, broken man."

"You say that like you have to be that way."

"What other way could it be?  I hurt people, Robin.  I've hurt you, twice.  It's all I know.  You said you had visions.  What have your visions been of me?  Have they been visions of a person who could be good?  Have you had a vision of me that hasn't caused pain?  You knew the minute I walked through the door that I was nothing good."

It was true that Bird had only had visions of evil when it came to James.  But she couldn't be sure of anything after the vision she had tonight.  In the vision, he beat the crap out of her and then kissed her.  She couldn't bring herself to admit how disturbed she was by the vision.  It was too disturbing, mainly because when his lips met hers, she liked it.

"Oh, spare me your emo poetry.  I would love nothing more than to see the back of you.  You are dangerous but that does not give you a blank check to continue to hurt people.  You're leaving.  Good.  But if you're leaving it would be nice to know that you aren't going to murder the world afterwards."

He had to laugh at her comment.  She really did think he was a monster.  She wasn't wrong.  He had killed many people and would continue to kill many more.  But only the people who really could destroy the world.  She had no idea what Hydra could do.  If she did, she would pray that they be killed swiftly, brutally. How they destroyed thousands, if not millions, of lives before she was even thought of.  They had to go down in fire and smoke.  That was the only way she and the world would be safe.

"Don't worry."  James said. "You'll sleep a lot better once I'm gone, _ptichka_."

She rolled her eyes.  "Whatever.  I'll let you get on with packing your stuff. "  She headed for the door and opened it.  "I just feel that you're not trying to be good because you think being a bad man is engrained in you.  There's always a choice, James.  You have to believe that.  That's the only way to make the nightmares stop.  Goodbye, James."

With that, she finally left.  James didn't get much sleep after that.  He spent the rest of the night planning his next move.  He knew he had to start at the very beginning in Poland.  The first place he was taken after he fell , 70 long years ago.  From there, he would gather the information he needed to branch out to other bases.  Find other leaders and participants in his demise.  He would burn them all and dance in the flames because he wasn't looking to be good, he wasn't looking for a peaceful night's sleep.  They stole that luxury from him long ago.  He was looking for vengeance and that never came easy.   That was never free. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright people, hoped you enjoyed and I will catch you cats next chapter!


	8. When I think of home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James ruminates on the concept of home. He also destroys a Hydra base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, I am such a bad fic writer! So here we are Bucky (James) is on his revenge tour! Bon chance, Soldat! The chapter is a lyric from "Home" from the musical The Wiz. Hope you all enjoy. Leave comments and kudos! Enjoy!

It wasn't until James had made it to Paris that he finally put a name to the feeling he had been feeling all week.  It gnawed at him the minute he left the farm.  It created a feeling of heavy unease in the depths of his chest.  The feeling would turn to sharp pangs whenever he was left alone with his incoherent thoughts.  The feeling was longing and he hated this feeling.

He dared not put into words the reason why he felt this.  However, every time he smelled roses in bloom, he heard the laughter of children, every time he ran his flesh-and-blood fingers across the single midnight blue feather in his jacket pocket, he would long for them.  It was madness, sure.  He had barely knew Matra Flannigan and her unruly family.  He was only there for two weeks.  But two weeks seemed to be enough for the rowdy bunch to infiltrate their way into his mind.

There was something broken in all of Matra's children.  He had noticed it in Ruby eagerness to get close to him, even though he was pretty certain he was way too old for her.  He noticed CJ's slouching gait and apathetic disposition.  Darius was a surly young boy, hot headed and constantly discontented.  The youngest of the children, Dana and Javier, were quiet as church mice.  And then there was Bird.

James didn't know what it was about her that set him off.  She was hot tempered and haughty. Every time she saw him she was outwardly hostile.  She knew a lot, maybe too much for her own good, but her knowledge betrayed how truly naïve she could be. However, she had her moments.  Whenever she felt he wasn't around, she would light up like the sun.  She would let herself go and would reveal her good and caring nature.  She would laugh loudly and give her love freely.  Whenever he wasn't around she reveal herself to be erudite.  And she could sing like a bird. 

One time, he heard her.  It was the dead of night and there she sat in the kitchen alone.  James could smell the tea she was nursing as she studied for a class she was taking.  She sat curled in up in a kitchen chair, her wings demurely wrapped around her in a cocoon.  The radio softly played jazz. The pastiche reminded James of a memory from long ago of a blond haired kid, furiously scribbling in a book while various drawings and sketches laid strewn about a room.  He had a habit of making a mess of the house when he sketched.

The jaunty fast tempo song ended and another slow paced song started.  The song was familiar although James was pretty sure he never heard it before.  He was just about to go back upstairs when she started to sing.

_If I didn't care more than words can say_ __  
If I didn't care would I feel this way?  
If this isn't love then why do I thrill?  
And what makes my head go 'round and 'round  
While my heart stands still?

James stood there, entranced.  He had heard singing before, he was sure of it.  He can vaguely remember the soft strains of a Gaelic lullaby, the riffing of a cantor during temple, an evil man droning an old gospel song.  But he hadn't heard something so beautiful.  He was certain he could get lost in her singing.

A thought ran through his mind as he listened.  He wondered if this was some strange power that she had been endowed with.  If she was born with the ability to weave traps with the sound of her voice in order to ensnare wayward assassins to their doom.   It seemed as though the angel was indeed a songbird.

Suddenly her singing stopped.  She shivered as if a chill had come over her.  Her eyes widened as if she was looking at something beyond what was right in front of her.  He had learned from Matra days ago that when she got like this, she was having a vision. A vision of what, James did not know.  James watched Bird as the seconds went by, wondering what she was seeing in her mind's eye.  Her face then contorted into an angry scowl.

"Are you going to get the damn glass of water you came down here to get or are you going to stand there stalking me the whole night?"

James sheepishly came out of the shadows  where he was hiding.  He was taken by surprise.   It wasn't everyday someone sniffed him out.  Either he was getting soft or her visions were a bit stronger than she let on. 

"Sorry." He said tightly.

James got his glass of water and went back upstairs.  The song now over.  He would never hear her sing again.  She was too vigilant to be caught that vulnerable again.  At least, not around him.  Of all the things he longed for, he longed to hear her sing again more than anything. 

He reminisced about his last day at the farm on the train ride from Vienna to Krakow.  They were all in the kitchen having breakfast.  Unaware he was standing in the door way.  They were particular rowdy this morning, as it was the day of the younger kids field trip.  They all quickly fell into silence, though, when he cleared his throat to get their attention.

"You heading out, James?"  Matra said with a smile.

"Yeah." He replied. "I have to make it to town before I miss my bus.  It comes in a few hours."

"Well I could always drive you." Matra offered.  James was tempted to take the offer, however he reconsidered when he caught a look at Bird's death glare.

"I'm alright.  I could use the walk."

With that, they all said their goodbyes.  Ruby was flirtatious, as always.  The rest of the children were apathetic to his leaving, but were still polite enough to say goodbye.  That is, with the exception of Dana who enthusiastically waved goodbye.  She even threw in an 'I'll miss you' as they ran up the stairs to get ready for school.  He could never admit that it warmed his heart, but James did enjoy the feeling of being missed.

"Remember what I told you." Bird commanded with her trademark haughtiness.

"I'll try." James replied, half jokingly.  Bird sighed exasperatedly.

"Do more than try. People are relying on you to do the right thing."

James's curled into a sly smile.  It was an interesting feeling, if not a little painful.

"People like you, _ptichka_?"

James could hear her heart thudding in Bird's chest.  Her face began to redden.  Her bravado weakened for a moment before her now all too familiar scowl returned.

"You are insufferable." She said as he exited the kitchen in a huff.

"I'll miss you too, Robin."

Now there was only James and Matra in the kitchen.  She looked at him a little perplexed by the conversation that had just took place between James and her daughter. 

"Well," Matra said, "I hope this is a sign that when you come back, you two won't be at each other's throats so much."

"I don't know if I will be back, Mrs. Flannigan." James replied, sadly. "I have a lot of things I have to sort out.  It might take awhile."

Matra looked at him dejectedly, but not entirely convinced.  She looked at him in a way that James found strange.  As if she knew more about his plans than he did.  He wanted to ask her why she thought he was going to come back, but decided against it.  He had be trained to treat everyone and everything with suspicion, and for once he had found something, someone he could believe in.  It was an exhilarating experience to lay his head in a place where he didn't have to worry.  He didn't have to fear.  He planned to hold on to this feeling a little while longer, even if it was just an illusion.

"Well, before you go, there's something I want to give you." She said as she left the kitchen.  She returned with a ice chest full of food and a jacket.  "The food is for the road.  There's some chicken, some apples, a few sandwiches and some chocolate.  So you won't be hungry or spending your money on junk food."

James placed the ice chest near his duffel bag.  He was thankful for the food.  It could keep him going longer the more access he had to food.  As he took an inventory of the food in the chest, Matra handed him the jacket.

"Here, try this on."

James held the jacket up to get a good look at it.  It was a black woolen peacoat, in great condition.  He slid the jacket on.  The sleeves were a little long, otherwise it was a perfect fit.  The Georgia spring was too hot for it, but it was perfect for where he was going.

"It used to belong to my son."  Matra said, softly. "He left it the last time he was here.  That was ages ago.  I would like to think he would want it to go to a good person.  You know, you actually remind me of him."

He stifled the sharp intake of breath.  The coat belonged to a good man.  And here, it was on a murderer's back.  He wanted to take it off, reject it.  He wanted to burn it and rebuke everything it stood for.  Where he came from, there was no such thing as a good man and there wouldn't be now that he was returning.  In his world, a good man was a dead man and he needed his evil if he wanted to survive to see the end of Hydra.

But then she did something unexpected.  She fastened the buttons on the coat.  Then she leaned and wrapped her arms around him.  He stiffened at first, at a touch so foreign to him.  Then he relaxed and hugged her back.

"You take care of yourself, James.  You go out there and do what you need to do.  But if you ever need a rest.  If you ever need some good food or a warm bed.  If you ever need anything.  You come back here, you hear me.  You come home."

The word rattled around his head as he sat in a tree right outside the Hydra base.  As he sat surveying the base he thought about home.  It was ludicrous to think that his place in the world was on some farm in Georgia, playing house and mucking out stalls for the rest of his life.  James Buchannan Barnes had a home, long ago.  His home was concrete jungles and skyscrapers and brick row houses.  His home was a house full of girls and a blond headed, hard headed boy who would rather die than walk away from a fight.  But that home was long dead.  All that was left was the Winter Soldier, and the Winter Soldier had no home.

Still the thought persisted as night fell.  He thought about that stupid farm while he climbed down from the tree and made his way toward the base.  He imagined himself as some homely farmer, spending his days chopping firewood, tending to the land, living the simple life.  His nights would be surrounded by family and so much food to eat he could burst.  He imagined as he took out the guards in the watch tower growing old and complacent, his days as an old warhorse long behind him.  As he found his way in, guns blazing, he thought of obsolescence.

He spotted a team of 8 soldiers coming his way, unaware he was right around the corner.  He clothes-lined the first one and threw a knife into the second one's neck.  Before the others could gather their wits, he took his gun out and emptied the clip.  All eight of the soldiers were down in a matter of seconds.  Only the soldier he clothes-lined was still breathing. James to a moment to see his work.  After over a month out of Hydra's control, the Soldier was still strong in him. 

He grabbed  the knife he had used on the second soldier and walked over to the first.  He was regaining consciousness by the time James had pressed knife to his neck.

" Ile osób jest w tej bazie?" James asked the frightened soldier.

"Nigdy nie powie psa jak nic!" the soldier spat out defiantly.  "Wiem , kim jesteś, Zimowy Zołnierza."

James quickly plunged the knife he was holding into the man's leg and twisted.  He covered the man's mouth before his screams could be heard.  He held him there until his muffled screams subsided.

"Zamierzam poprosić ponownie . Ile osób jest w tej bazie?"

"Istnieje 20 wojskowych i sześciu naukowców ."

There were 20 soldiers, eight of which he had already taken down.  Now there were 18 people still left in the building.  James pulled the knife out of the soldier and slit his throat.  He put the blade back in its sheath and took off down the hall.

It only took a matter of minutes to take out the rest of the guards.  He was in rare form cutting, stabbing, and shooting his way through the building.  As he made his way through to the control room.  The control room was the source of all the information he needed about the Winter Soldier program.  It contained information about his life.  It also contained a list of various Hydra bases that would need to be eliminated.  The sooner he could get into the control room, the sooner he could get out, the sooner he would be closer to finishing his mission.  His last mission.

His last mission.  The mission that would make him obsolete.  It was daunting to think about it. Hydra, Pierce, they all made obsolescence seem like a terrible thing.  They would tell him if he could just kill this person, start that war, his war would be over.  But he knew the war would never end.  Hydra would never let the war end.  They had manage to keep it alive for almost 70 years.  They lived for war.  War made the people fall in line.  Made them obey all orders and sacrifice everything for it to end.  War was the best weapon Hydra had.  The Winter Soldier was its second.

He realized that in order to put an end to Hydra, that both the war and the Soldier had to end.  He made it to the control room to find the door locked.  He reached back and punched the lock with all of his might.  It thankfully broke and James reminded himself to invest in a set of tools to pick locks with.  In one quick motion, James kicked down the door and threw a hand grenade. 

He heard the scientists shout frantically before the grenade went off.  Then it was quiet save the sounds of faint moaning.  James entered the room and  headed for the nearest undamaged computer.  He searched for a few minutes until he found the files he was looking for.  He took out a USB drive and transferred it all from the computer.  Once he was done, searched the room for hard copies of older files.

"Winter Soldier." a voice called out feebly from the dead bodies.  "You cannot win a fight against us.  We will find you and bring you back.  We will destroy everything you hold dear just to get to you.  If you are smart you will be a good slave and come back to us.  And we will forget this lapse in your training."

Before the man could continue,  James was face to face with him.  His glare so piercing it could tame a lion.  The man's words dried up in his throat and he was truly afraid.  The Soldier would have savored his fear, extracted from him slowly, carefully.  However, James got no enjoyment from  his pain, his fear.  To him, this was all a chore.

"I know Hydra will come for me."  James said, evenly.  "They might even bring me back into the fold.  But so long as I'm free, they will wish they hadn't.  They will wish they had left me to die in the snow.  You, however, will be too dead to care.  Tell me, you don't have a fear of fire, do you?"

With that, he grabbed the hard copies and left the man to die.  It took an hour to gather enough gas to set the base on fire but he managed.  As he drove away from the compound, he thought about home once again.  If he had any pretense that he could have a home went up in flames with those dead bodies.  The sword fit too comfortably in his hands to put it down.  Besides, he had lit a fuse and started a war with Hydra.  He knew he would have to spare the people from this war.  Spare _them_ from this war.

So he kept on the road.  On to his next location.  The Soldier had no home.  He only had the mission.  And the Soldier was just as determined as Hydra to deny James what he wished.  A key thing he needed to be the man he longed to be.  A home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Polish:  
> Ile osób jest w tej bazie?- How many people are in this base?  
> Nigdy nie powie psa jak nic!- I would never say anything to a dog like you!  
> Wiem , kim jesteś, Zimowy Zołnierza.- I know who you are, Winter Soldier.  
> Zamierzam poprosić ponownie . Ile osób jest w tej bazie?- I'll ask again. How many people are in this base?  
> Istnieje 20 wojskowych i sześciu naukowców.- There are 20 military personnel and six scientists.
> 
> Alright everybody. Next chapter we get more Steeb. Thanks for reading!


End file.
